


please leave a message

by wizardcity



Category: Hyouka & Kotenbu Series
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-14
Updated: 2013-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-23 11:54:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/926097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wizardcity/pseuds/wizardcity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Satoshi's grown three inches, but Mayaka's grown as well.</p><p>(She wears heels.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	please leave a message

_One day, when they’re alone, he kisses her. It’s a soft, sweet thing that lasts only a few seconds on her lips. She’s sixteen and confused and in love. But there’s something bittersweet about that kiss and Mayaka notices. She looks at him._

_“Do you like me?” Mayaka asks, but somewhere deep down, she knows the answer._

_“I don’t know. Do you?”_

_“I’m not sure, either.”_

_Satoshi smiles a little and it’s a smile that breaks her heart to pieces._

♢

When her mother knocks on her door to ask about “how she’s doing with boys”, Mayaka is shocked. There’s no other word for it, nothing to sugarcoat (Mayaka’s always been honest with others, but with herself, not so much). But she could’ve never expected this from her mother; her gruff, dominating (yet short) father is the one who has these conversations with her, together on the living room sofa, perhaps with some tea. She would lay her head on her father’s shoulder, and nod along to whatever story he was fabricating about “the pansy-assed class-ditching teenage boys” he would see wandering around town.

But her mother, petite, gentle, forgiving, is here sitting on Mayaka’s still-childish (too childish) pink and white bed, looking up at her a tad bit nervously. Mayaka stops arranging her manga and sits down next to her. She smells like fresh laundry and for a while, they sit looking down at their short legs dangling over the edge of her bed. Mayaka doesn’t want to break the silence; instead she looks out the window at some chirping birds, biting her lip ever so slightly.

Her mother is quick to notice.

“You like him, don’t you, Mayaka?" 

She doesn’t even say his name, but both of them know who it is. Mayaka’s breath hitches, just for what seems like a fraction of a millisecond, but her mother notices and smiles gently, taking Mayaka’s hand into her own.

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you when you’re not looking; it’s longing and wistful and apologetic but still loving, isn’t it, Mayaka?”

Mayaka looks away; because she can’t believe how effortlessly her mother puts everything she’s been feeling for the past four years into four simple words. She silently runs through those four words again, repeating them almost like a mantra, _longing, wistful, apologetic, loving._ _Longing, wistful, apologetic, loving._  

Her mother’s warm hand drags her back to reality. Mayaka pulls it away roughly, stands up and walks towards the window. Her mother sighs softly and the bed creaks slightly as she gets up to leave. The door opens noiselessly.

“Will you be alright, Mayaka?”

She’s eighteen and in love with someone who loves her back, but never tells her, _will_ never tell her, someone who will say ‘sorry’ to everything she wants to say, someone who is just as scared to love as she is.

Mayaka doesn’t answer because she doesn’t know.

♢

Her mother avoids asking about Satoshi until a week before the high school graduation ceremony. She brings it up almost carelessly while they’re cutting up vegetables. To be fair, they had been talking about what Mayaka’s friends had been up to, if they were doing well, how maybe they could come over for dinner.

Mayaka easily shrugs off the question: “Chitanda probably needs to stay with her family; I’m sure they have some important social gathering to attend to. She’d love to come, though,” she answers confidently.

“Hōtarō probably won’t come unless Chitanda asks him over and over again. And Satoshi. . .” She stops peeling the potato in her hand.

“Satoshi?” Her father asks from the dining table, where he’s filling out some forms, “The short one with the spiky brown hair?” Mayaka nods silently. How many times had her parents seen Satoshi? Twice, thrice, maybe even more? (She’d introduced them at last year’s graduation ceremony.)

“Good,” her father grunts in satisfaction, “I’ve never seen that boy around town ditching class, at least.”

Her mother turns slightly to take a careful, searching look at Mayaka’s face; Mayaka tries to remain impassive, as cold as stone, but it doesn’t work. She knows her mother notices the tiniest clench of the peeler, the sudden furrow of her eyebrows, the stiffness in motion. 

There’s a five-minute pause and Mayaka realizes that her mother has stopped chopping vegetables. Mayaka continues to peel, but in the middle of washing the potato, she risks a glance towards her mother. They meet eyes and Mayaka’s mother smiles; it’s a smile that’s so similar to his that she immediately looks away, pretending to be concentrating on scrubbing every last blemish from the potatoes. How is she so afraid of something as innocent as a _smile_? Mayaka berates herself silently until she feels her father’s gaze on her. 

“Why don’t you call your friends and ask? It’d be kind of rude to not invite them, Mayaka,” her father admonishes, “After all, you’ve been to _their_ houses before.”

Mayaka doesn’t say anything. Her father takes it as agreement and her mother chimes in, hoping to ease the situation a bit.

“Just call them, Mayaka. That’s all you have to do. Just do it now; you might forget later.”

Mayaka nods without a word (she won’t forget, ever) and excuses herself from the kitchen to find her phone to call her friends. She’s supposed to feel happy about inviting friends over, but that smile flashes again in her mind, and she remembers the middle school chocolate that he would never accept, those seemingly nonchalant ‘sorry’s he tosses around with that sad but still playful look in his eyes.

She feels sick.

♢

It doesn’t take long to find her phone amid her organized room. It’s lying where it always is: safely in its charging dock on her small computer desk. Mayaka carefully unplugs the phone and sits down on her bed. She flips the phone around in her hands a few times and finally gets the courage to look down.

It’s a flip phone, with a cheap plastic pink case, its edges worn down, as it should be after more than five years of use. On the back, there are three flower stickers and an identification sticker with her name and phone number. Mayaka’s memorized every scratch and blemish on this phone and she does it once again, tracing her thumb over the front and ~~the~~ side of the flip phone. After two minutes of silence, she finally gathers the courage to open the phone.

The phone chirps as the screen saver turns to the generic gray background. She pages over to ‘Contacts’ and pauses for a moment. Who should she call first? The answer is simple enough: Chitanda.

_Calling Chitanda Eru. . ._

The phone rings twice before Chitanda picks up.

“Hello?” She says with the familiar, questioning lilt that Mayaka knows all too well. She doesn’t need to brace herself to talk to Chitanda; they’re best friends, for pete’s sake. Mayaka doesn’t understand why she was so worried in the first place.

“Hello, this is Mayaka,” she begins softly. 

“Oh, Mayaka? Excited for graduation?”Chitanda’s voice is positively bursting with energy; she can just imagine Hōtarō grimacing at Chitanda’s supposed “wastage” of energy.

“Yeah,” Mayaka smiles to herself, “Graduation’s so close. I was wondering if you would want to come home for dinner. As it is, I’ve been to your house loads of times and I feel pretty guilty, on second thought. . .”

There’s a tinkling laugh on the other end of the phone.

“Oh, it’s quite alright, Mayaka. And yes, I can join you for dinner that night!” Chitanda answers cheerfully. Mayaka can just imagine a happy little musical note hovering over her head.

“Alright then. Thanks, Chitanda.”

“It was no problem at all.”

They both hang up; they’ve talked to one another long enough that they have no need for goodbyes.

♢

Calling Hōtarō is a bit harder than calling Chitanda, but Mayaka reassures herself that if there’s one thing that she can do regardless of anything, she can taunt Hōtarō. She quickly punches in the number, takes a deep breath and jams the phone to her ear.

There’s one, two, three, four rings until someone picks up. There are a few seconds of silence broken by a long groan and Mayaka smirks.

“Oi, Hōtarō!” Mayaka holds the phone right near her mouth and yells as loud as she possibly can. There’s another long groan and she figures that Hōtarō has finally figured out who is calling. More groaning and shuffling comes from the other end.

“Mayaka, what the hell,” Hōtarō says point-blank, “I was taking a nap and your stupid phone woke me up.”

“Hōtarō, it’s seven-thirty in the _evening._ What kind of nap are you taking?” Mayaka asks snidely, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers.

“That’s not the point,” Hōtarō yawns, “But what did you want to ask?”

“My parents are forcing me to invite you all to dinner, so you better come,” Mayaka asserts, waiting for an answer.

“Sure, sure. Whatever will get you off my back.”

Hōtarō yawns again and hangs up.

They don’t really need to say goodbye, Mayaka realizes as she closes the phone.

♢

Mayaka opens the flip phone and goes to the ‘Contacts’ menu once again. She pages all the way down until she finds Satoshi’s entry. Her finger hovers over the green ‘CALL’ button for a few seconds, but she finally garners all her strength to push down the worn button.

She bites her lip and holds the phone close to her ear. Satoshi picks up on the first ring.

“Hello, Mayaka?” Satoshi says in that playful voice that she’s completely fallen for. Too bad she can never tell him flat out.  _Now’s not the time for self-wallowing, Mayaka. Pay attention to what you’re supposed to do and hang up. Don’t make this take longer than it has to be._ Mayaka gives herself these pep talks quite often when she’s around Satoshi.

“Oh hi, Satoshi,” Mayaka blurts into the phone, and she grimaces. She sounds fake, like a plastic doll.

“You sound different,” Satoshi picks up on it immediately (he’s always been this perceptive), “Are you alright?”

Mayaka wants to scream with frustration right now; she wants to yell into the phone; she wants to tell Satoshi that _he’s_ the root of all problems, that _he’s_ the one she’s fallen for, but she can’t and neither will he. It’s pitiful, really, she realizes at that moment. They are both such cowards.

“I’m fine, Satoshi,” Mayaka says apologetically, trying to force some more feeling into her words, “I was just wondering whether you could come over for dinner for New Year’s. Chitanda and Hōtarō are coming as well.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, a few seconds of silence, and then Satoshi answers.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t. We’re going to visit my grandmother in the country,” Satoshi sighs into the phone, but Mayaka knows better. She can’t believe him anymore.

“You’re lying,” she snaps, “I saw your grandmother at the market last week. And for your information, we _live_ in the country.” Mayaka flushes angrily and pulls on some loose threads of her bedspread. 

“What I meant was-“ Satoshi tries to talk again but Mayaka cuts him off.

“You could’ve just said no and that would’ve been the end of it,” she says, but Mayaka can hear the bite, the sting and the venom in her words; she hopes they reach the other end. There’s a sigh.

“I know. But I just need to sort out . . . things,” Satoshi struggles to pluck the correct words from thin air, so Mayaka waits and waits. She knows this is even worse than hanging up.

Mayaka waits and waits and waits for an answer that will never come.

“Goodbye, Satoshi.”

“Goodbye, Mayaka.”

After she slams her phone shut, she mentally notes how their goodbyes sound like death wishes.

♢

The dinner is great with only Chitanda and Hōtarō.

Hōtarō even brings a present – well his sister forces him to – but that’s not the point.

Throughout the entire dinner, there’s a hushed kind of feeling to the conversation and she knows it’s because of _him –_ it’s gotten to the point where she doesn’t bother referring to him by name.

At the end of the dinner, Hōtarō asks the question she’s been waiting for and she finally has an answer.

“So where’s Satoshi?” Chitanda immediately elbows him as they stand near the open door, donning their jackets and shoes.

“He had something to do. No big deal,” she tosses this answer nonchalantly to them both, waiting for a reaction.

Chitanda’s eyes flash but she doesn’t say anything.

♢

Mayaka gets a phone call at two in the morning from Chitanda the next day, the day before graduation ceremony. Her dull, worn pink phone’s screen lights up her face and she is blinded for a moment.

“Satoshi’s gone.” Chitanda whispers urgently and Mayaka can hear a door being gently closed in the background.

“Are you sneaking out, Chitanda?”

“Of course I am. Did you even hear me? Satoshi’s gone!” Chitanda hisses before hanging up.

Mayaka is unsurprised. 

It’s sad how Mayaka has to force herself to care at this point. _He’s still your friend, Mayaka._ She forces herself to get up and change out of her pink pajamas. She settles on a red shirt and shorts. Before she leaves her room, Mayaka looks down at the puddle of pink near her feet. She bends down, picks up her pajamas and drops them in her trashcan. Mayaka is too old for such childish colors.

♢

Mayaka has memorized the route to his house by the time she is sixteen. She’s only been invited twice, but she knows she’ll never forget. Mayaka walks down her street, takes one left and then a right until she comes to his road. Huge flowering trees line the road on both sides and in the distance, Mayaka can see a lone house with its lights on.

It takes her ten minutes to walk down the small stretch of road. Mayaka knows why but she doesn’t want to admit this to herself. She is standing in front of his door now.

_He’s not here, Mayaka. There’s nothing to worry about._

She steels herself with this thought and knocks on the door.

Satoshi’s mother answers, a bunch of tissues clumped in one hand. Behind her shoulder, Mayaka can see Chitanda talking urgently with Satoshi’s flustered father. Hōtarō is standing tall and alert in the corner, phone in hand, something that seems impossible to Mayaka right now.

“Come in,” Satoshi’s mother gestures towards a couch.

“Thank you. I’m sorry about Satoshi,” Mayaka says without emotion.

♢

Satoshi left without a word, at least that’s what his mother claims. But Mayaka knows better and thinks back to her last conversation with him. Around a small dinner table, all of them call his cellphone number with no success. Satoshi’s mother is the one who takes his disappearance the hardest; she pounds the number again and again into her phone, till the point where Mayaka is sure that she can remember his number until the day she dies. (She already does, but that’s not the point.)

Everyone is tired. _If only you could see their faces, Satoshi, but I’m sure that wouldn’t help._

Satoshi’s mother looks up at Mayaka for a few seconds before saying anything. The look she gives Mayaka is so desperate and demanding that Mayaka can’t help but feel uncomfortable.

“How about you call him, Mayaka? Maybe he’ll pick up if he knows it’s you.”

Mayaka lies effortlessly, “Oh, I was in such a hurry that I left my phone at home,” she says as her right hand rest on that silly pink flip phone lying in her jacket pocket.

Within a few seconds, she swears it’s gained at least five pounds. Mayaka smiles in what she can only hope is a reassuring yet solemn smile, but her face contorts with difficulty. She is not used to being fake; what has happened to her?

“Oh,” Satoshi’s mother struggles to answer, “It’s just that I know how much he cares for you, Mayaka.”

Mayaka is taken aback: is it that obvious?

Mayaka’s honest inner voice wants to answer something along the lines of: _Well, if he cared that much he wouldn’t leave, would he?_ But her sane conscience stops her from saying the obvious. Instead, Mayaka answers in her (now-familiar) strained, polite voice that she would like to leave. Hōtarō and Chitanda have already left ten minutes prior, so Mayaka isn’t sure what she’s still doing here.

Satoshi’s mother looks crestfallen. She doesn’t stand up to get the door and Mayaka gets the message.

Mayaka leaves without another word.

♢

When she reaches home and sneaks back into her bedroom, Mayaka reaches into her pocket and pulls out her pitiful pink flip phone and opens it. The screen bursts to light in the dim dawn light flooding through her sheer curtains. She pages over to the ‘Contacts’ page and scrolls all the way down to his name.

_Calling Satoshi. . ._

It rings and rings and rings until the same computerized, sterile voice comes on: “The number you have dialed is unavailable at the moment. Please contact your phone provider for more information.”

Mayaka closes the phone and lets it drop to the floor.

She knows she shouldn’t be this upset, but she is.

♢

The graduation ceremony the next day is subdued and forgotten quickly. All Mayaka remembers is the empty seat next to Hōtarō. She can’t believe that he misses _this_ of all things. The principal is rambling on and on about how they’re the entire nation’s “shining future” but Mayaka could care less. All she wants to do is leave this little, country town and all the memories she’s made in it.

What would her parents think? They would be heartbroken. Mayaka suddenly remembers Satoshi’s mother’s lost and confused expression. Does she really want to see _her_ mother like that? 

There’s sudden movement and Mayaka realizes that it’s the end of the ceremony and they’re all standing for one final bow. She stands and notices in the corner of her eye, Satoshi’s empty chair.

Mayaka turns back to face the stage. Her fingers curl into fists and she realizes how selfish she is. She’s already made her mind up.

When her mother and father walk over from the visitor’s section to congratulate her, she slaps her (now too-familiar) plastic smile on and accepts her father’s praise, her mother’s hugs and kisses. Mayaka is close to crying.

♢

She leaves that night. Mayaka has no problem packing up and leaving, it’s the easiest of everything. It’s almost two in the morning when she finishes loading her two suitcases and shoulder bagwith clothes and necessities. There is a pile of pink clothing lying in a heap next to the trashcan. She sits down at her desk for a moment.

Mayaka realizes she needs to leave a trace, a note, an apology, _something._ Unlike Satoshi, she cares about the consequences of what she is about to do. She grabs a memo pad and pen and sits. The pen quivers in her hand a bit so she sets it firmly on the yellow paper. What can she really write?

Mouth set, tears barricaded, she scrawls three words. _I’ll call later._

Picking up her two suitcases and shoulder bag up from the floor, she quietly opens her bedroom door with the note scrunched in her hand. Her parents’ room is next door and Mayaka bends down to slip the note under the door.

Mayaka remembers, when she was a little girl, how she would send little notes to her father before he woke up everyday. They would be meaningless things, things she had probably learnt to write the day before in school, things like ‘ _The flower is beautiful’_ and ‘ _You are my mother and father’._ Mayaka remembers a few years later, how through shining eyes, her father showed her a box filled to the brim with those same notes, bad penmanship and all.

_“If you ever leave, Mayaka, I won’t be sad, do you understand? After all, I have all these tidbits of you right here with me.”_

Mayaka struggles to choke back tears and walks down the corridor towards the door. Hand on the doorknob, she looks back, mentally waves goodbye and leaves.

♢

The next few months are hard for her.

After she leaves, Mayaka boards an overnight bus to Yamanashi and decided to stay in one of the many cities’ Internet cafes. It’s cheap (about 1,500 yen a night) and she’s come face to face with the fact that she has nowhere else to go. Standing in front of the main desk, Mayaka quickly counts out the money and hands it to the slightly overweight owner.

She’s surprised by the fact that no one asks anything about why she’s here; why someone her age is here. Out of the corner of her eye, Mayaka notices a door open from the room nearest her. A girl not more than fifteen shuffles out, outfitted in a fast food service uniform. Mayaka looks back at the owner for some explanation.

He just shrugs and offers, “It’s normal, girl. People from all over come here. She’s run away from home. Divorce or the sorts, I suspect. But as long as people pay, I don’t ask questions. I reckon I’m saving these people from living out on the streets.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Girl, it’s _always_ been this bad,” the owner answers, counting the money and slipping it into his pocket.

Mayaka spends the next eight months in the four-foot by eight-foot cubicle, working two shifts a day at the local grocer’s and at a retail store. It’s backbreaking work, she knows, but it’s worth it when she gains acceptance into the local university’s journalism program. Mayaka will have to work part-time through the school year to pay for the dorm fees, but that doesn’t matter to her.

She packs up the next morning, hugs the landlord and leaves.

There’s a payphone down the road from the café; something that she’s passed by hundreds, maybe thousands of times, but Mayaka can never slow down enough to pick up the receiver. She hasn’t called her parents once since leaving that note, and sometimes, when Mayaka lies in “bed” after a long shift, she wonders if her father ever stored that note in his special box.

The payphone is a few feet away and she walks towards it with newfound resolve.

Mayaka inserts a few coins, punches in the number, and waits. There’s a click and her heart falls a little, just a little. Just as she’s about to dock the phone, there’s a cough and a “hello”.

She breathes.

“Mom, I’m okay.”

♢

Mayaka gets a job only a month after she finishes university. It’s somewhat of an easy job, compared to the long night hours she’s used to taking. Mayaka’s job is with a major travel company hoping to increase foreigners’ interest in Japan, so they’ve decided to open up a blog. She’s expected to figure out an overarching theme and publish two articles a month. Mayaka is also supposed to travel to various regions of Japan (all company paid, thank god) and document her stay there.

She rents a small apartment on the outskirts of town and for a while, there’s only a plastic chair left by the previous owners and her two suitcases. Mayaka’s one-room apartment is as empty as she feels.

_No, that’s not the way to think about it. It’s not empty; it’s new, a fresh start._

♢

Mayaka calls her mother whenever she can from the same payphone. Her calls don’t last more than ten minutes and it seems that everything is going well. Mayaka gets her paycheck on the first day of every month and writes her two required articles; she shops for furniture and clothes. It’s all so normal that after a while she feels bored.

Mayaka tries dating, but it doesn’t work. She already knows it wouldn’t ever work and it’s all because of _him._

It also doesn’t work out when they ask her for her number and Mayaka has to answer, “I don’t have one.”

It’s his entire fault.

♢

She eyes a pair of light pink heels, barely an inch high, lying innocently enough on the wooden shelf. Mayaka has never worn heels before, so she sits down on the bench and throws off her pink flats. The heels fit wonderfully and she stands up to admire them in the mirror.

There’s something about the heels that makes her feel different; she’s not only taller (Mayaka hasn’t grown since she was fifteen) but she feels more grown up, for lack of better word. Mayaka wobbles around for a few minutes until she balances almost perfectly and can walk a whole lap around the store.

Sitting once again on the bench, Mayaka pulls the shoes gently off her feet. The only thing she doesn’t like is the color. It’s light pink, close enough to beige, but still it reminds her too much of that stupid pink flip phone that she’s carried along all the way. It’s still sitting at the bottom of her suitcase.

Sighing, she gets up and walks over to the cash register, holding the pair of heels almost reluctantly.

♢

It starts out harmless enough, a pair of light pink one-inch heels. 

Two, three, four inches, the number seems to grow and grow. The colors change; from light pink to black to merciless red. Mayaka is confident with heels on, she’s stronger, tougher and wiser about many things, but love is not one of them.

♢

“Your father had a heart attack, Mayaka,” her mother replies sternly, a completely different answer than what Mayaka was expecting when she asked, “How’s Dad doing?”

Mayaka breath hitches and she almost drops the phone. Hands slick with sweat, Mayaka tries to keep a firm grip on the phone.

“When?”

“Two weeks ago,” her mother replies, a steely edge to her voice, reminding Mayaka once again of how self-centered she is, abandoning her family, not even bothering to call them weekly.

Her mother hangs up before Mayaka does, something that she’s never done before.

Mayaka packs up all her clothes into all available suitcases and leaves that night. She’s headed back home, the first time in five years.

♢

Her father’s hand brushes over her cheek as they stand on opposite sides of the threshold. It’s around seven-thirty in the evening and the sky is rapidly darkening. The familiar hum of insects fills her head and Mayaka looks into her father’s eyes.

“Mayaka, it’s alright,” her father answers a question that was poised on her own lips.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course, little flower. I just need to learn to keep in shape,” he answers noncommittally, smiling a bit too much.

“I didn’t mean it that way; what I meant was. . .” she suddenly falls short.

“How I still love you even after not seeing you for five years? How I’m not angry with you for not calling? How sad I would sometimes feel when I realized that you’re not around?” Her father says this in an uncharacteristically soft and hushed voice.

“Well, foolish girl,” he answers in his normal gruff voice, “I’ve got my little box full of meaningless things that you wrote to me, and that’s been more than enough.”

He points back at the living room table and Mayaka notices the box - her box - no – _their_ box lying open on top of some newspapers.

“But aren’t you angry, not even a little bit?”

“At first, yes. Later on, no. You have to forgive, Mayaka, that’s the only way you’ll ever move on,” he says pointedly and Mayaka knows that he knows how much Satoshi changed her.

Her mother appears next to him, gently smiling, and for the first time in five years, Mayaka feels whole again.

♢

Her father insists that they all go out as a family to the town square. Mayaka doesn’t really want to go, but after all she’s put her parents through, it’s the least she can do. She needs to force herself to depend and trust others, instead of abandoning everyone and living independently but selfish.

Mayaka can’t let go that easily, so before she leaves, she dons her fiercest pair of heels, blood red and three inches tall.

♢

The town square is alive and bustling; people are milling about in the cold, wintry air. Some trees are strung with lights and there’s a strong scent of coffee in the air. It’s exactly how Mayaka remembers it. After accompanying her parents to buy Christmas presents, they decide to walk down to a local restaurant and ear.

Mayaka gets separated from her parents, no surprise among the throngs of people. Fighting and sometimes elbowing her way through the crowd, she bumps into him. In retrospect, the whole situation was terribly cheesy, something straight out of those romantic comedies she would laugh and snort at with her father.

“Sorry. . .oh, it’s you, Mayaka,” he says, looking down at her. The first thing she notices is his height. He’s grown three inches, but Mayaka’s grown as well – she wears heels. Satoshi shuffles away from her awkwardly, so now they’re standing two feet away from each other. There’s something apologetic in his eyes that Mayaka instantly picks up on. She draws her gaze away from those pitiful eyes and fixes them on his neck. If she looks any longer at his face, Mayaka is sure she’ll break down, whether that be crying or yelling.

“Mayaka, I’m sorry,” Satoshi offers. But Mayaka she doesn’t want his pathetic excuses.

She looks up and there’s that same sad smile that broke her heart five years ago and it does the same now. But there’s something different about this smile; maybe it’s the way his eyes crinkle slightly like he’s smiling, maybe it’s the way his mouth is set, like he’s trying not to smile out of relief. Before Mayaka has any time to figure it out, she leaves, sidestepping past him. Mayaka is supposed to forget him, abandon him, _hate_ him.

Satoshi doesn’t grab her hand or call out her name.

After she’s covered enough distance and blown off enough steam, Mayaka looks back. He’s turned around and still smiling, although it’s a different smile from the one before.

It’s a smile of joy.

Without thinking, she smiles back.

 _You have to forgive, Mayaka, that’s the only way you’ll ever move on._  

♢

That same night, she buys a small silk pouch, the same type that Satoshi would carry around in high school. At home, she digs through her suitcases until she finds it. Mayaka drops that silly pink flip phone into the pouch, wraps it in a box and walks to Satoshi’s house. She still hasn’t forgotten the way.

Standing outside the gate, she slides the box into the mailbox and leaves. 

Scribbled on the box is her new phone number.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hyouka is fictionally set in the Gifu prefecture.


End file.
